That's My Girl
by RussianWolf7
Summary: Six months after Hannibal. Clarice reflects on what her life has become. Then she gets a phone call... The story isn't anything at all like what you're thinking. I can guarentee it. CHAPTER TWO ADDITION! RE-READ CHAPTER TWO!
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. Despite my attempts to convince my parents to buy the video's for me. Especially Hannibal which is infinitely better than The Silence of the Lambs  
  
A/N: This is what happens when you watch Hannibal one too many times. I was lying in bed last night thinking about Hannibal and this idea just popped into my head and kept me up all might long because it was I have a bedtime and couldn't write it. Now that I'm finally sitting down at my computer to start it, I'm not sure if I'll actually be able to write it. But I did, and it turned out to be my best fanfic ever and probably the best story I've ever written. Period. I hope I'm not sounding to conceited, but I really like it and I hope you do too.  
  
Quotes taken from www.imdb.com  
  
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Clarice Starling sat on her couch listening to the tapes for about the ten thousandth time that Barney had given her. The more she listened to them the more she thought about how brilliant Hannibal Lecter was, even if he was a psychopath.  
  
i "First principles, Clarice. Read Marcus Aurelius. Of each particular thing ask: what is it in itself? What is its nature? What does he do, this man you seek?  
  
He kills women-  
  
No! That is incidental. What is the first and principal thing he does, what need does he serve by killing?  
  
Anger, social resentment, sexual frustration-  
  
No, he covets. That's his nature. And how do we begin to covet, Clarice? Do we seek out things to covet? Make an effort to answer.  
  
No. We just-  
  
No. Precisely. We begin by coveting what we see every day. Don't you feel eyes moving over your body, Clarice? And don't your eyes move over the things you want?" /i  
  
The words had more meaning to her now than they had when Hannibal had first said them. Then, they had been talking about Buffalo Bill. Now, she was thinking about herself.  
  
Ever since Hannibal had come back into Clarice's life, she had been trying to ignore the effects he had on her. Even now, sitting here in her living room just listening to an old recording of their conversations, she could feel it. A small chill racing up and down her spine whenever he said her name, or something of the sort.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Flashback*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Clarice raised the candlestick above his head and was about to bring it down as hard as she could when something made her stop. For some reason that she couldn't explain, not then at any rate, she couldn't do it. She knew that she had to, but something deep inside her told her that she couldn't. Just then, Hannibal whipped around, grabbed her wrists and pinned her against the refrigerator.  
  
"I came halfway around the world to watch you run. Let me run," he said. Clarice tried to free herself, but Hannibal smashed her against the refrigerator again. He then opened the door to it enough so her ponytail fell in and then shut it again, breaking off the handle so she wouldn't be able to get out.  
  
"Tell me Clarice, would you ever tell me to stop? If you loved me you'd stop?"  
  
"Not in a thousand years," Clarice spat.  
  
"No in a thousand years?" Hannibal leaned into her. "That's my girl," he whispered and then kissed her.  
  
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Now, six months later, whenever Clarice thought about it, she wondered why Hannibal had phrased it that way, what her answer would be if he asked her now, even though it was only six months later and nowhere close to a thousand years, and most of all about the kiss. She wished as hard as she could that it hadn't happened, but no amount of wishing could undo the past.  
  
Before that, she remembered saying that she thought about Hannibal for at least thirty seconds every day. Now, it was rare if she thought about anything else. Well, that's not entirely true. She did think about other things, especially when she was working, mainly because she was warned if she screwed up one more time, they would really fire her, and other times, but when she was lying in bed trying to fall asleep, Hannibal completely took over her mind.  
  
Right before she had first met Hannibal, she had been told not to tell him any personal information because she didn't want him inside her head. Now, two main thoughts circled that. First, if she hadn't told him everything she had, would it have worked out differently? Secondly, and far more complex and disturbing, was, what if she wanted him inside her head? Which always led to the endless what if's about the relationship she had had, and to some degree still had, with Hannibal.  
  
And then there was the problem of her job. While technically she was still part of the FBI, all the respect she had once had had disappeared. Everyone treated her like dirt and nobody believed her whenever she had something about a case even if there was evidence supporting what she said. It was getting so frustrating that she had considered quitting. She had a suspicion that people greatly supported this idea, but no real evidence.  
  
Not to mention, people got mad at her when she had been killing the people she was after even if it was the only way to do her job. Now she had stopped shooting as much, but some of her fellow agents had died because of it, and so now they were mad at her because she wasn't shooting enough. It seemed like what ever she did just wasn't good enough. On one case, she had followed orders specific enough that it seemed like they were telling her when to breathe, but somehow they had managed to say that it had been a complete failure. It just wasn't fair! Not that anything in life had ever been.  
  
But probably the worst thing that had happened to her recently was that the lambs had started screaming again. This was undoubtably the worst because it tied everything together. Work, Hannibal, her past. When the lambs were screaming it all came together to reveal the horrible picture that was her life.  
  
Clarice sighed, shoved all those thoughts aside and went to go make dinner, still listening to the tapes. As soon as she stepped into the kitchen, the phone started ringing. She quickly took off her headphones and jogged over to the phone.  
  
"Agent Clarice Starling. Who is this?"  
  
"Hello Clarice. It's been a long time since we've talked, hasn't it." There was no mistaking that voice.  
  
"Doctor Lecter?" Clarice stammered.  
  
"I thought this might be a good time to call because I know you won't try to trace me. I am right, aren't I?" Hannibal asked. They both knew what the answer was.  
  
"I won't try to trace you. It wouldn't work anyways would it," Clarice said, trying to get control over herself and the situation.  
  
"I don't imagine so. Tell me Clarice; am I right in saying that the lambs have started screaming again?" It was scary, to say the least, for him to know exactly what she had been thinking.  
  
"Yes," she replied. No point in lying when he knew the answer to that question, and to all the other ones he was going to ask.  
  
"What were you doing right before I called?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"I was about to make dinner."  
  
"And what were you listening to?"  
  
"Tapes. Tapes of our conversations when we had first met."  
  
"And what were you thinking about?"  
  
"My job."  
  
"No. What were you really thinking about? It was me, wasn't it." It wasn't a question.  
  
"Yes, Doctor Lecter," Clarice said, glad that he couldn't see her.  
  
"Come now, Clarice. I think we know each other well enough to use first names," Hannibal said.  
  
"You could say that," Clarice said.  
  
"Now, Clarice, what exactly were you thinking about me? What I am, what I've done? Were you perhaps thinking of ways you could capture me? No, I don't think so. Please, enlighten me." After a few minutes Clarice still hadn't said anything. "Don't tell me you don't know," Hannibal said, clearly amused.  
  
"No, I can't say I do," Clarice said, the lie evident in her voice.  
  
"Well, then I guess we'll just have to work this out. Dissect it until we do know." Clarice nodded, realized that he couldn't see her, and said,  
  
"I guess we will have to. Or we could just leave it, but I doubt you're willing to do that."  
  
"No, I don't think so either. Now, let's get to business. Why were you listening to those tapes?"  
  
"Because I was thinking about what you had said and how closely those things described every day life."  
  
"Which particular part are you referring to?"  
  
"What you had said about coveting. How we covet what we see every day."  
  
"And what is it you covet, Clarice? More than anything else?"  
  
"Reason. Fairness. Order."  
  
"No. Those are things that everyone wants. Be more specific, Clarice. Name things, places- people."  
  
"I want to be respected. I want people to treat me how I deserve to be treated. I want people to look past my faults and see my good qualities!" Clarice's voice was rising until she was almost yelling.  
  
"Like I did." Clarice stopped. She sat down on the chair next to her the telephone and everything seemed to stop. The birds that had been singing, the cars that had been driving past, even her own heart seemed to stop as soon as he said that. Hannibal laughed quietly.  
  
"That's what I thought. It all boils down to me, doesn't it. I'm what you covet, Clarice."  
  
"Why does it matter?" she said harshly.  
  
"When I told you I came halfway around the world to watch you run. When I told you to let me run. I'm sure you remember the occasion."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"What if I asked you to run with me?" For the second time in a few seconds, it all stopped. "Come with me, Clarice. Think of the life we could have together. You have always wanted to travel and, as I'm sure you know, we would travel. We could do anything we wanted. Come with me."  
  
"We can't. It wouldn't work and you know it. You're on the list of the top ten most wanted. I'm an FBI agent. Think about it. It's impossible."  
  
"No, it isn't. Nothing is ever impossible. I thought you had learned that already." Clarice sighed and rested her head on her hand. It was another one of those unsolvable cases about deciding between what you want and what was right.  
  
"There's the problem of what you do. I could never live with someone who ate people." Silence. A few minutes later,  
  
"I'd give it up for you." Once again, everything stopped. Clarice decided that it was a very annoying habit that the world had seemed to acquire recently.  
  
"Where are you now? I'm not saying yes, but where are you?" The door bell rang.  
  
"I'm right here."  
  
"The spare key is taped to the bottom of the welcome mat," Clarice said and hung up. A few seconds later, Hannibal walked in and sat down next to her. He looked exactly the same as when she had last seen him, if a little balder.  
  
"How can I trust you?" Clarice asked. Hannibal debated about what he should say. There were so many possible answers.  
  
"Because deep down inside you know I'm not lying. Because I saved your life. Because-" he stopped.  
  
"Because?" Clarice prompted.  
  
"Because" he paused again, and then looked straight into her eyes, "because I love you." Clarice sat there, trying to take it all in. He loved her? Hannibal "the cannibal" Lecter was in love with her? It didn't seem possible. But, as Hannibal himself had said, anything is possible.  
  
"Yes," Clarice said quietly after a few minutes.  
  
"Yes about what?" Hannibal asked. For once, Clarice knew that he didn't know the answer.  
  
"Yes," Clarice said again.  
  
"That's my girl," Hannibal whispered and hugged her. Clarice leaned her head on his shoulder wondering why on earth she had just done that. i I didn't do the right thing. She told herself, but I did do what I wanted for the first time since I can remember. And for now, that's good enough. /i  
  
"We should go," Hannibal said. Clarice nodded, and followed him out the front door and into his large van. For the first time in what seemed like forever she sat in the passenger's side. A single tear ran down her cheek. Hannibal didn't have to ask what was wrong, he knew. Nothing was the answer. Everything was ok. And she was crying because it was the first time since she was ten that everything was ok. The lambs had stopped screaming and they both knew that they wouldn't start again.  
  
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So what do you think? Is it any good? Should I continue? Click the light purple button to reply. 


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I don't *sob* own anything. REALLY wish I did, but I don't.  
  
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As they drove down a deserted country road, Clarice couldn't help but question what she was doing. A few hours earlier, she had decided to go off with Hannibal because he had said that he had loved her on the condition that he had promised to stop being a cannibal. Now, she found the idea that he loved her completely ridiculous and his promise to stop eating people even more so.  
  
"Having second thoughts, Clarice?" Hannibal said. After the many years she had known him, Clarice had never gotten used to him being able to tell exactly what she was thinking.  
  
"In a manner of speaking, yes," Clarice answered.  
  
"What can I do to prove to you that I love you?" Hannibal asked. Clarice heard the genuine truth of what he was saying, but she knew how good he was at convincing people of things. As for the actual question, Clarice had no idea. It was unusual for her not to have even the slightest clue, but then again, this was an unusual situation.  
  
"Proving love- it seems so ridiculous. One shouldn't have to have love proven to them, don't you think? After all, a large part of love is trust," Clarice said, hoping she didn't sound too much like Hannibal.  
  
"And what are you implying, Clarice?" he said, glancing at her for a second, then returning his eyes to the road.  
  
"Nothing whatsoever," Clarice said and started to think again. Hannibal let it be, knowing that she would tell him soon enough. Of course he knew what she was getting at, but he hoped that for this one time he was wrong.  
  
At around seven thirty when it started to get dark they began looking for a place where they could put the van for the night. Eventually they saw a small wood where they could park the van. The combined mix of underbrush and tall trees and the dark colour of the van made it ideal for hiding in.  
  
Hannibal pulled the van a little ways in the woods then got out to see if it was visible from the road. It wasn't, so he went back and got into the back part of the van. Clarice had already started dinner so he sat down on the couch and watched her. She was strikingly beautiful, her long red hair falling into her face and her clear blue eyes glancing over at him every so often. When she did look at him, he would smile and Clarice would smile back, but as if she was withholding something from him. Hannibal knew that if he said anything about it, it would just be building the wall between him and the information, more importantly between him and Clarice. He wanted so much for this to work out, but it felt like the whole thing was doomed. He wanted to hold her in his arms and comfort her, saying everything was ok and that she could trust him, but he knew it wouldn't do any good.  
  
"Dinner's served," Clarice said a few minutes later. She had made two grilled cheese sandwiches. Simple, but delicious. Much like herself, Hannibal thought.  
  
"Thank you, Clarice," he said, taking the plate that was being offered to him. They ate their dinner in silence, Hannibal watching Clarice, Clarice thinking about what she was going to do.  
  
"Clarice," Hannibal said. She looked at him. "There's one thing I'm just dieing to know. Do you love me?" He knew that he should've waited for Clarice to start, but he did have to know. Clarice debated how to answer.  
  
"I'm not sure if I can trust you. I know you would never hurt me, but what you've been doing isn't something that I can take lightly or just forget with a wave of a hand. But, directly answering your question, yes, I do love you." Hannibal leaned over and they kissed, this time with much less venom and much more passion than when he had first kissed her. They broke away smiling.  
  
"I'll clear up. I remember the last time we dined together you did. Quid pro quo, doctor," Clarice said, still smiling. She collected their dishes and put them in the sink, not in the mood for washing. She sat down next to Hannibal, closer this time. He put his arm around her and she leaned her head against his shoulder.  
  
"I know you might find it hard to trust me at first, but I think the idea will grow on you," he said.  
  
"I'm sure it will." And with that, Clarice began to fall asleep, despite the early hour of eight thirty. It had been a trying day, and her body needed rest.  
  
"Good night," she said.  
  
"Good night, my Clarice," Hannibal replied and leaned his head on her's. He closed his eyes and they soon fell asleep.  
  
Clarice woke up the next morning on a pulled out couch underneath a heavy blanket. She looked at her watch and saw that it was seven thirty. She smiled; it was unusual for her to get eleven hours of sleep. There was always something that needed to get done. But now, now she could do, with in reason, whatever she wanted.  
  
Hannibal was sitting across from her, drawing. Clarice got up and looked over his shoulder. It was of her, sleeping like she had the night before, with her head on Hannibal's shoulder, and his head resting on hers. Her hair had fallen into her face, but between the locks, you could clearly see a small smile. Hannibal put the finishing touches on the picture and looked up at his subject.  
  
"Good morning, Clarice. Did you sleep well?" he asked.  
  
"Yes. And you?"  
  
"Of course." Hannibal looked back at the picture. "Not one of my best pieces of work. I've never excelled at drawing myself."  
  
"I like it, although I highly doubt that I'm that beautiful," Clarice said, eyeing the picture.  
  
"But you are. Oh, and Clarice?" She looked at him. "Breakfast is on the table. Quid pro quo." 


	3. Chapter Three

Disclaimer: I own nothing. *starts crying hysterically*  
  
A/N: Sorry I haven't updated in a while. I've been working on other stories, but I finally decided to do something with this one . . . or at least attempt to do something.  
  
Warning: Towards the beginning of this chapter, there is a very bad case of OOCness, mainly over a game of cards. Do not flame me for it; you have been warned. And you can't really blame me, how can a game of Go Fish be as serious as Hannibal and Clarice really are?  
  
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Clarice walked over to the table, slightly nervous about what was on it. She knew that Hannibal had promised to stop killing, but that didn't necessarily mean that he didn't have leftovers that he had been keeping for a special occasion. Clarice definitely counted this as special, but not quite special enough that she would eat someone. When she saw what was on the plate, she laughed. There were two sunny side up eggs with a strip of bacon along the bottom of the plate.  
  
"It's more juvenile than I would've expected from you, but it looks quite good. Thank you," Clarice said, smiling at Hannibal.  
  
"Well, I figured that you wouldn't want a real face, so I made you a fake one. Myself, however," Hannibal said, glancing over at his plate. On it was something that looked suspiciously like part of a face. Clarice jerked away from the table with a repulsed look on her face.  
  
"Hannibal! I thought you said that you would stop!" Clarice said, almost yelling.  
  
"I am. These are merely leftovers that I didn't want to go bad. I thought that you would appreciate the van not smelling like a corpse," he said and walked over to Clarice.  
  
"You could throw them out," Clarice said and walked over to the table. She picked up her plate and went to the opposite end of the van. She sat down on the couch and began to eat.  
  
"Clarice, I'm sorry. I didn't think that it would bother you so much," Hannibal said, remaining where he was. He wanted to go over to her, but knew it would only make things worse.  
  
"Not bother me? How could that not bother me? It was once a human's face! Yeah, that would bother me, and you know it, or have you forgotten the evening in Chesapeake?" Clarice spat. Hannibal winced.  
  
"No, I haven't forgotten," he said and went over to the plate. He quickly ate everything on it, either ignoring or not noticing Clarice gagging in the corner. Once he was done, he got up, put the plate in the sink and went over to a small cooler in a corner of the van. "I'll be right back," Hannibal said and took it outside. He returned shortly and put it back where he had gotten it from. He went over to the sink and began washing his plate. With his back still towards Clarice, he said, "You'll need to go shopping soon to get some new cloths. You'll probably also want to get your hair cut or died, preferably both. I suggest you write a letter to Agent Mapp telling her not to worry, otherwise she'll come looking for you. She probably will anyways, but at least there will be a chance that she wont'. I don't suppose you have your wallet with you?"  
  
"Yes, actually I do."  
  
"You'll also need to get rid of it and get new identification papers under the name of Anna Rickman. You're forty three and grew up in London. You moved to America six months ago after you met me. Before you get your papers, we'll need to get rings so it looks as if we're engaged. Once you have the papers, we can go wherever you want," Hannibal said monotonously. Clarice stared at him. He could feel her gaze boring into his back. "What?" he asked.  
  
"You've done this a lot, haven't you?" Clarice asked, slightly awed. She told her self that she shouldn't be considering who she was dealing with, but she couldn't help it.  
  
"You should know," Hannibal said sharply.  
  
"What is it?" Clarice snapped. Hannibal sighed.  
  
"Nothing," he said. Clarice knew that if she tried to ask him again, she would either get silence or meaningless answers. She sighed and finished her breakfast. She walked over to the sink where Hannibal was still washing his breakfast dish.  
  
"It's clean," she said softly. Hannibal turned snapped his head up from the dish. He put it in the dish drainer next to the sink and took Clarice's plate from her. "Hannibal, what's wrong?" Clarice asked again. Her voice was soothing and he leaned his head on her shoulder.  
  
"Nothing," Hannibal repeated. Clarice sighed.  
  
"You're going to have to tell me sometime."  
  
"I know," he said, and started washing her dish. Clarice sighed again and went back to the couch. Next to her was Hannibal's sketchbook. She picked it up and began leafing through it. Most of the drawings were of places, but a few were of her. She stopped at a particularly stunning one. She didn't recognize where it was, but it was absolutely beautiful. All of the buildings seemed to have a surreal quality, like they shouldn't really be standing up. The lines seemed wavy, but not as if it was because that was how he had drawn it, but as if that was how the buildings actually were. It seemed as if the city was underwater, but knew that it wasn't. Hannibal drew things that had he had either seen or heard about, real things, not fantasy. Like all his pictures, it wasn't coloured in, but Clarice knew that if it was, everything would be in blues, purples and greens.  
  
"That was in Venice," Hannibal said. Clarice looked over to see where he was. He was still standing by the sink.  
  
"How do you know what picture I'm looking at?" Clarice asked.  
  
"Because when I drew that one I was thinking of you. Art calls to the person it is made for."  
  
"Still. . ." Clarice said.  
  
"If you want to go there, we can."  
  
"I'd love to," she replied. "How long will it take before we can go?"  
  
"About a month once we get going. Maybe a little longer."  
  
"When can we start?"  
  
"Once we're far away enough from your home so no one will recognize us. We need to be in a big city where no one is remembered, and the nearest city like that is probably three days away. I know you're anxious to leave, but if we're not properly prepared, it's going to make our lives much more difficult. One thing about living like I do is that you have to be patient," Hannibal answered.  
  
"What do we do until then? From what you're saying, we're facing three days worth of doing absolutely nothing." Clarice answered. At that, Hannibal finally turned around smiling. He walked over to Clarice and reached up to the shelf above the couch. He brought down a deck of cards.  
  
"You'd be surprised at how many card games one picks up when one travels across the world," Hannibal said. He held his hand out to Clarice. She took it and stood up. He led her to the table and pulled out a chair for her.  
  
"Thank you," Clarice said sitting down.  
  
"Of course," Hannibal said and sat down across from her. He began to expertly shuffle the cards. "What game would you like to play?"  
  
"Most of the card games I once knew, I haven't played in years. I'm afraid that the only ones I really remember are War and Go Fish," Clarice said, somewhat sheepishly (A/N: no pun intended).  
  
"Go Fish, then?" Hannibal half asked and began dealing out cards.  
  
"Somehow I never imagined myself playing Go Fish with someone on the Top Ten list," Clarice chuckled. She picked up her cards. "Pairs or four-of-a- kind?"  
  
"Four-of-a-kind, of course," Hannibal said with mock surprise. "I intend to make this as challenging as a game of Go Fish can be."  
  
Three hours and twelve games later, they were still at it. The score was tied. Since they had both decided that they needed to get going, the game they were playing now was the final game. They each had three cards left and it was Clarice's turn.  
  
"Do you have nay fives?" she asked for what seemed like the ten thousandth time.  
  
"Go fish," Hannibal said. She picked up a card and smiled.  
  
"I win," she said, laying out four fives. Hannibal threw his cards down. "I never would've guessed that you were such a sore looser," Clarice teased. Hannibal harrumphed.  
  
"Perhaps that would be because I am not used to loosing," he said.  
  
"Shame. At any rate, you need to get us out of here. Start driving," Clarice said. Hannibal's eyes shot daggers at her, but she only smiled sweetly. He mumbled something under his breath. "What was that?"  
  
"Nothing!" Hannibal snapped and went up to the driver's seat. Clarice sat down next to him.  
  
"Since you are being so kind, I guess I'll sit up here next to you," Clarice said and buckled herself in. Hannibal smiled.  
  
"Thank you. It does get rather lonely driving by yourself for many hours in a row."  
  
"I know," Clarice said and put a hand on his thigh. Hannibal's smile widened and he started the van. He carefully drove out of the woods and onto the road and began to really drive. He and Clarice talked about various things, but never about what had been bothering him that morning, even though it was on both of their minds. Clarice's hand stayed where she had put it.  
  
At around three in the afternoon, Clarice said that she was hungry. By then they were on a real highway, so Hannibal said that they could stop at the next food place. A half hour later, she finally saw a sign for one. Two minutes later they pulled into the parking lot. They got out of the car and went into the McDonald's. They walked up to menu and decided to get some macaroni and cheese. Clarice wanted to eat there, but Hannibal said that it was too dangerous, so they settled on eating in the van still in the parking lot. Hannibal still didn't think that it was a good idea, but he did it for Clarice. A half hour later they started driving again. Clarice put her hand back on his thigh.  
  
They drove until six when they started looking for a place to stay in. Again, Hannibal wanted to just sleep in the van, but Clarice really wanted to sleep somewhere where she wouldn't wake up with a sore neck.  
  
"Clarice, you woke up with a sore neck this morning because you spent most of the night with your head on my shoulder," Hannibal reasoned.  
  
" I don't care. I want a real bed."  
  
"You are far too stubborn for your own good," Hannibal said, but he pulled up at the next hotel which happened to be the Marriot. Clarice stared at him.  
  
"I didn't mean that we had to spend thousands of dollars," she said.  
  
"The bigger the better," Hannibal said. He parked the van and went into the back to get anything they might need. A few minutes later they were standing in the lobby. "Wait by the fountain," Hannibal whispered to Clarice. She nodded and went over to a large fountain. She saw Hannibal talking to the desk attendant, and after about five minutes he came back holding some keys. "I'm Alexander White and you're my wife, Carmen." Clarice nodded. A bell boy walked up to them.  
  
"Do you need any help?" he asked. His name tag proclaimed that he was Henry.  
  
"No, thank you. We're fine," Hannibal said and smiled coldly at him. The boy scampered away. Hannibal led Clarice to the elevator and rode up to the third floor. Their room number was 335 and they had no trouble finding it. When Hannibal opened the door, Clarice couldn't help but gasp. He hadn't just booked them a room, but a whole suit.  
  
"Hannibal, we're only going to be here for one night," she said, walking into the room.  
  
"First, my name is Alexander. Second, I was thinking that we might stay a little longer. I've always liked the Marriot," he said smiling. "Besides, it would probably be a good idea to rest for a few days before we start getting everything together."  
  
"I'm not complaining," Clarice called from another room.  
  
"I didn't think you would," Hannibal said, walking into the bedroom where he saw Clarice sprawled out on a huge canopy bed. He sat down next to her and put her head in his lap. He began massaging her forehead.  
  
"Hannibal, Alexander, we don't have rings," Clarice said.  
  
"We can get them later today," Hannibal said. "What I'm most concerned with is your having only one outfit. We should go out now," he said, but didn't move.  
  
"I know," Clarice said, but she didn't make any move to get up either.  
  
"We really should go," Hannibal said.  
  
"I know."  
  
"Clarice, you realize I can't easily get up with you on me?"  
  
"I know."  
  
"Clarice, please."  
  
"Fine," she said and got up. "Where should we go?"  
  
"Some place fancy. This is one of the best rooms in the hotel, and we need to be dressed well. For accessories, we can go to Tiffany's, but for actual cloths, I'm not sure. Where Tiffany's is, other stores are, generally of the same standards. We can look around," Hannibal said.  
  
"Alright," Clarice said, and walked out of the room with Hannibal at her side.  
  
"And Carmen, remember that we're married," Hannibal whispered in her ear. She nodded, and leaned slightly on him. Hannibal put his arm around her waist and smiled. They walked down the hall and towards the elevator. When they got there, it was just leaving so they had to wait for another to come. It did, and they went down to the lobby. They went out the doors and to the van. Hannibal was almost sure that someone would be there waiting for them, but no one was. They got into the van and in a few minutes they were in the parking lot of a gigantic mall.  
  
"Alexander?" Clarice said.  
  
"What is it, Carmen?"  
  
"How did you know where this mall is?"  
  
"Because I do," Hannibal said and got out. Clarice followed and soon they were weaving there way through the crowds. "Tiffany's is on the second floor, Hannibal said and led Clarice to an escalator. When they got off, they were standing in front if Tiffany's.  
  
"I suppose it would be useless to ask how you knew this?" Clarice said.  
  
"Yes," Hannibal smiled.  
  
"Do you have really have enough money to go shopping in Tiffany's?"  
  
"We, Carmen. Yes we do. Rings are this way," Hannibal led Clarice to the rings section. "What's your favourite gem?"  
  
"Um, diamond. But you don't need to buy me a diamond ring just so people think we're married."  
  
"I know I don't." Hannibal led her towards the diamond section. "Carmen?"  
  
"Mmmm?"  
  
"Why don't you go look at other jewellery. We can meet up again later," Hannibal said. Clarice looked at him oddly.  
  
"Ok," she said, and walked away towards where she remembered the necklaces to be. She found them quite easily; it really paid off to have a good memory, and when you're and F.B.I. agent, that's something you need to have. She was in a slightly dilemma. She wanted to get diamond necklaces to match her ring, but didn't want Hannibal to have to pay for them. She knew that he was rich, but asking for a set of diamond jewellery seemed like a lot.  
  
"Excuse me, but do you need any help?" a clerk asked her.  
  
"Yes, please. I'm looking for diamond jewellery, but not too fancy or expensive," Clarice answered.  
  
"Ok. Is there any style in particular that you are looking for? A certain animal or shape?" she asked.  
  
"Well, I guess dragonflies. I've always liked them," Clarice said.  
  
"You're in luck. We just got in a new shipment of dragonfly jewellery. What piece are you looking for?" the woman asked.  
  
"I'm kind of new at jewellery shopping, so I'm not really sure. Could you help me?" Clarice said. She hated not knowing anything, and wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. Being in a store this fancy and expensive made her feel incredibly awkward and out of place.  
  
"Sure. Follow me," the clerk said and began to weave her way through the many showcases. Clarice followed easily, another skill she had picked up from the F.B.I.. "Here are the dragonflies. I think you'll probably want a necklace, a bracelet, a pair of earrings and a brooch. Those are the basics."  
  
"Ok. What's the price range?" Clarice asked. Before the clerk had a change to answer, Hannibal came up to them.  
  
"Carmen, I've told you. Price doesn't matter," Hannibal said to Clarice. He then turned to the clerk. "Thank you for your help, but we can do the rest by ourselves."  
  
"Of course," she said, and walked away.  
  
"Dragonflies? I can't say I'm surprised. They're free and beautiful, like you," Hannibal said. Clarice blushed.  
  
"Thank you. Are you really sure price doesn't matter? You must have a limited amount of money. Everyone does."  
  
"Price doesn't matter," Hannibal said again. He turned towards the display and picked out a brooch, bracelet, necklace and a pair of earrings. "She was right about one thing. You need to have the four basics: a brooch, a bracelet, a necklace and a pair of earrings. But in general, never trust sales people. Try these on," he said and handed them to her. Clarice took the necklace first and fastened it around her neck. The dragonfly was hanging from a silver chain the same colour as the embedding where the diamonds were on the pendant. Next, Clarice took out her earrings and put in the new ones. They were also silver with diamonds and hung down about an inch below her earlobes. She then clipped the brooch on, which was the same dragonfly as on her earrings and necklace. Finally, the bracelet, which had a single dragonfly charm. In her new jewellery, Clarice felt incredibly awkward and afraid to move because she knew that if she did, everything would break. "You look beautiful Carmen. Come, lets buy everything and then we can go looking for clothes."  
  
"Ok," Clarice said and took off all the jewels. "You don't have to do this, you know. The total is going to come out to some ridiculously high price."  
  
"I know," Hannibal said and took the jewels and put them in their boxes. They walked up to the counter. "I'll meet you outside, ok?" Clarice looked at him oddly again.  
  
"I'll be right outside," she said and walked out of the store. She sat on some benches and in about three minutes Hannibal came out holding a bag.  
  
"Where would you like to go?" he asked.  
  
"You know more about living high class than me. I don't know anything at all about fancy dresses. The last time I wore a dress was at my father's funeral, thirty two years ago. And I'm not exactly the type of person to watch fashion shows or anything. DO you have any ideas?" Clarice said.  
  
"Even though I am high class, I know almost nothing about woman's clothes," Hannibal said.  
  
"Since neither of us knows about any good stores, why don't we just try one at random?" Clarice suggested.  
  
"That's the only logical thing to do," Hannibal said and began to walk in no particular direction. Clarice followed, and soon they came to a store that looked like it might be good. They went inside and Hannibal nodded in satisfaction. It was medium size so it wasn't as overwhelming as Tiffany's had been, but it seemed that it was of very good quality.  
  
"This place should be perfect," Hannibal said.  
  
"May I help you?" a woman asked from behind them. They turned around and saw a clerk standing there.  
  
"Sure," Clarice said quickly before Hannibal could refuse. Since neither of them new anything about the store, she figured that a guide would be helpful.  
  
"We're looking for evening gowns," Hannibal said.  
  
"Ok. My name's Mia. Is there any particular you're looking for? A certain style?" Mia said.  
  
"No," Hannibal answered.  
  
"Colour? Anything that could help me figure out what to show you?"  
  
"Black, yellow or red would be nice," Clarice said, thinking of the colours she normally wore. "Maybe blue. I don't really know. What do you think?"  
  
"I think you're right. Let's start with black," Mia said and led them towards the back of the store. "What size are you?" Mia asked.  
  
"I haven't worn a dress in over thirty years; I really don't know," Clarice answered.  
  
"Then what's your pants and shirt size?" asked Mia. Clarice told her.  
  
"These should fit you then." Mia took down three dresses. "The dressing rooms are here," Mia said pointing to where they were.  
  
"Thanks," Clarice said. She took the dresses and walked over to the rooms. She selected one of the larger stalls and undressed. She picked the first dress up. It was made of satin and felt like water. Clarice out it on, but couldn't zip it. After several failed attempts, she took hers arms out and turned the dress around. She zipped it, turned it back the right way and put her arms through. She looked at herself in the mirror and gasped. She looked nothing like herself. The dress accented all of her curves in a way that no clothes she had ever owned did. She stepped out of the stall to see Hannibal and Mia in front of her.  
  
"You look amazing, Carmen," Hannibal said.  
  
"He's right," Mia agreed. "Try the others on." Clarice nodded and went back into the room. She took her dress of the same way she had put it on, turning it around to undo the zipper and put it back on its hanger. The next one she picked up was made of silk and was quite cold. She slipped this one on, again turning it around to zipper it. This one was much fancier, with a lower neckline and a slit down the side. It reminded her of the dress that Hannibal had given her at Chesapeake so much that she had to sit down for a second. She put her head in her hands as the scene at the dinner table played in front of her eyes. Her asking for some wine, Krendler sitting at the table with his hat on, then Hannibal taking it off as well as the top part of his head. Serving Krendler's brain to himself and then clearing the table. Herself getting up with the candle stick to kill Hannibal. Hannibal kissing her.  
  
"Are you ok?" Hannibal's voice cut through the memory and she was jolted back to the present.  
  
"I'm fine," Clarice said and opened the door. Hannibal gasped, instantly aware of the resemblance.  
  
"Get that one," he said.  
  
"I will," Clarice said and went back into the room. She put on the other one, but this one didn't fit her nearly as well and quickly changed out of it. She took the two dresses she would be buying in one hand and the one she wasn't going to on the other. She came out.  
  
"The last one didn't fit?" Mia asked. Clarice shook her head, still slightly out of it from the flash back that had just occurred.  
  
"No. I think that I'd only like to try on a few more and then leave," answered Clarice.  
  
"Sure. Which colour?" Mia asked.  
  
"Red," Hannibal and Clarice said at the same time. Mia laughed.  
  
"This way," she said and led them towards the reds section. "Any shade?"  
  
"Dark," Clarice answered.  
  
"Here," Mia said handing Clarice two dresses. She went back to the changing room and put the first one on. It felt as if she had been wrapped inside a waterfall. She looked at herself in the mirror and liked what she saw. The dress was quite a bit darker than her hair, but it contrasted nicely. It seemed to fit her like a second skin. She walked out of the room and saw that Hannibal and Mia were where they had been last time.  
  
"Beautiful," Hannibal said.  
  
"Definitely. Try the other on," Mia said. Clarice went back into the room and tried the other on. It also fit and she showed it to the others. They nodded and she went back into the room. She changed back into her normal cloths and went back out, holding the two dresses. She handed them both to Hannibal who had been holding the others.  
  
"Let's go," Clarice said. Hannibal nodded. They quickly paid for the cloths and left. At the first bench she saw, Clarice sat down heavily. Hannibal sat down next to her, carefully placing the bags next to him.  
  
"Are you ok?" he asked again.  
  
"No. Give me a second," she said. Hannibal put an arm around her and she leaned into him, grateful for something real to hold on to. Memories were coming back to her at an alarming rate from her entire life and she wasn't happy about it. A few minutes later she sat up again, rubbing her cheeks where she had been crying. "I'm sorry," she whispered.  
  
"It's ok. Let's go," Hannibal said soothingly and helped her up.  
  
"One problem. I still don't have any normal clothes," Clarice said. "I can't go around in these dresses all the time."  
  
"Am I right in thinking that you would much rather do it later? We can come back tomorrow," Hannibal asked.  
  
"Excellent idea. Let's go," Clarice said. They went quickly back to the van, put their purchases carefully into the back and drove back to the hotel. They went up to their room and put everything on the bed, carefully laid out. Hannibal swore when he saw everything.  
  
"What is it?" Clarice asked.  
  
"I'll be right back. I'm going to the store in the hotel. I'll be back in a few minutes," Hannibal said.  
  
"Why. . ." Clarice started to ask, but he was already gone. She sighed and sat down on a chair by the window and looked out. The view was spectacular. Even though they were only on the third floor, the hotel was on a hill so Clarice felt as if she could see for miles. A pond was almost directly below her and a woods started about ten yards away from the edge. It went on as far as she could see, rolling over hills until it reached the horizon. She started thinking about the last time she had seen a view like this and decided it was when she had flown to California a couple of years ago on a mission. She tried, but couldn't remember exactly what it was, but decided that it didn't really matter. Clarice let her mind relax and started thinking about random things, none of which were very important. About ten minutes later, she heard the door open. Hannibal walked in carrying a bag which he dumped on the bed. Make up flew out of it, but it all managed to stay on the bed. "No," Clarice said.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"No."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"No."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"No."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"No."  
  
"Carmen, if this is going to work, you need to," Hannibal said.  
  
"I haven't ever worn make up in my life and I'm not about to start," she said, folding her arms across her chest. "Besides, I don't even know how." Hannibal sighed.  
  
"I'll do it for you," he said.  
  
"You know how?" Clarice said, surprised.  
  
"Yes, actually I do," he said. "Why don't' you get dressed, and then call me when you're done." Clarice nodded, and Hannibal left, leaving her alone with the immense task of making herself looking like she belonged in the Marriott. She took off her clothes and slipped into the black dress that didn't look like the Chesapeake one. She put on all of her jewellery and put her hair up in a bun, something she rarely did. That taken care of, she called to Hannibal. He came in and smiled when he saw what she looked like.  
  
"Sit on the chair," he said, motioning towards the chair that was by the window. "On second thought, move next to the bed first." Clarice did as she was told. Hannibal sat across from her on the bed. "Don't move," he said. She nodded and then stilled. Hannibal looked down at the make up he had brought. He picked up a dark red lipstick. "Smile." Clarice did. He took the top off and ran it gently across her taunt lips, resisting the urge to kiss her. Hannibal couldn't tell what she was thinking because he was so wrapped up in his work, so he didn't notice how close they were until he felt her breath on his face. She opened her eyes, and looked straight into his maroon ones. He realized that he didn't know when she had closed them, but didn't really care either. They stared at each other for a few minutes until Hannibal backed away and put the lipstick back on the bed. He picked up eye liner and told Clarice to close her eyes. She did and he quickly applied it. He then put on eye shadow, followed by mascara. He then put on a light coat of blusher before he said that she could open her eyes. When she did, Hannibal gasped. She looked so amazingly beautiful, not that she didn't usually, but she looked so . . . different.  
  
"What," she said nervously.  
  
"You look perfect," Hannibal said, still staring at her.  
  
"Mirror?" Clarice asked. He pointed at the one mounted on the wall. She got up gracefully and walked over towards it. She stared at herself in disbelief. "This isn't me," she said.  
  
"I know, but she'll have to do for now. Come, dinner's ready," Hannibal said.  
  
"How do you know?" Clarice asked.  
  
"Because all hotels have the same dinner schedule. Carmen," he offered her his arm. She took it.  
  
"Then let's go eat," she said. Hannibal smiled and led her out of the room towards what promised to be a delicious dinner. 


	4. Chapter Four

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Hate to disappoint you, but I doubt that Thomas Harris would be up here in the first place.  
  
A/N: I'm sooo sorry to make you wait this long for the next chapter, but I've been stuck with ideas. Thank you so much SlowChemical77 for ideas. Can't do it without you! Although actually this chapter is all mine. I'll let ya know when her ideas come in.  
  
Actually, I also borrowed some ideas from Stanley Kubric and Stephen King. Don't worry; this isn't horror. Just . . . well, you'll see.  
  
Also, a warning: EVIL CLIFF-HANGER!!! VERY EVIL CLIFF-HANGER!!!  
  
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As they made their way down stairs, Clarice couldn't help but feel something was . . . off about the doctor. He seemed far more stiff and formal, but perhaps it was just his being "Alexander White." Still, something had seemed wrong since they had been in the van together the previous morning. "Alexander?" Clarice asked softly.  
  
"What is it darling?" he answered, sending shivers down Clarice's spine, even though she knew that part was just an act.  
  
"Are you feeling alright?" Clarice asked.  
  
"Quite," Doctor Lecter snapped.  
  
Clarice turned around and looked him in the eyes. "Tell me."  
  
"You'll find out soon enough," the doctor said somewhat sharply and began to walk briskly down the stairs. Clarice followed in an uncomfortable silence. It didn't last long, however, because they soon got to the dining room and were seated quite quickly as they were one of the highest paying guests in the hotel. Their table was right next to a window and they had a beautiful view of a river.  
  
They ordered quickly and started talking again, but it was halting and unnatural. Eventually they stopped trying and fell into another uncomfortable silence. Clarice glanced at Doctor Lecter, trying to figure out what was wrong. He was obviously quite lost in thought, but she didn't know what about. While they were waiting for their desert to come, Clarice finally asked him again.  
  
Doctor Lecter sighed. "I need to give you your 'engagement' ring."  
  
"Yes, I know," Clarice replied.  
  
Doctor Lecter didn't say anything. "I will after diner."  
  
"Ok," Clarice replied, not understanding why this was a big deal. Eager to find out, she ate quickly, while Doctor Lecter picked listlessly at his desert. Clarice soon finished and Doctor Lecter stated that he would rather not finish his meal. He quickly paid for it and led Clarice outside into the warm evening. They walked in a comfortable silence through a maze of hedges until the doctor led them to the middle.  
  
"Please, sit," Doctor Lecter said and led Clarice to a bench.  
  
"Thank you," Clarice replied and sat down.  
  
Doctor Lecter sat down next to her and took her hands in his. "Clarice-" he began.  
  
"Carmen," Clarice said quietly.  
  
"Clarice," Doctor Lecter repeated firmly¸ "will-" he hesitated. The doctor had rehearsed this scene a thousand times in his head, but things are often easier to do in one's head.  
  
"Will," Clarice prompted softly.  
  
"Will you marry me, Clarice?" Doctor Lecter whispered.  
  
Clarice stared at him. "Of course," she replied.  
  
Doctor Lecter looked into her eyes. "Are you positive?"  
  
"Yes," Clarice replied, almost laughing. "If you can honestly think that I didn't expect this, you are quite crazier than I had thought. You wouldn't have asked me to come with you, to live with you, if you didn't intend to ask me."  
  
Doctor Lecter smiled. "Observant, aren't we?"  
  
"Elementary my dear Watson," Clarice replied with a stereotypical English accent.  
  
Doctor Lecter smiled. "Clarice?"  
  
"Carmen," Clarice corrected again.  
  
"Clarice," Doctor Lecter replied.  
  
Clarice sighed. "What?"  
  
"I love you," Doctor Lecter said softly.  
  
"Elementary my dear Watson," Clarice repeated. "So do I," she added almost as an after thought.  
  
Doctor Lecter smiled again. "You would do well to realise that you must be serious sometimes."  
  
"I am serious," Clarice replied. "I was just joking, and judging by the smile on your face, you don't mind all that much."  
  
Doctor Lecter's smile widened, even though he didn't want it to. "I admit that sometimes I find your antics humorous, but there is also a time for seriousness."  
  
"Seriousness," Clarice mocked. "Seriousness?"  
  
"Clarice, you know what I mean. And it is a word," Doctor Lecter replied.  
  
"I know that. It is just remarkable unserious," Clarice commented.  
  
"Hmph," Doctor Lecter replied.  
  
Clarice laughed quietly and kissed the doctor lightly on the cheek. "Could we go inside? I'm getting rather cold."  
  
"Of course, my love," Doctor Lecter said and stood up. He took Clarice's hand and led her towards the exit of the maze. Or where he thought the exit of maze was. Ten minutes later when they still weren't out, Clarice asked,  
  
"Why aren't we out?"  
  
"I'm not sure," Doctor Lecter responded.  
  
"Are we lost?"  
  
"I'm not sure," the doctor repeated.  
  
"Oh joy," Clarice responded.  
  
"We'll be fine, don't worry," Doctor Lecter said with such conviction that Clarice was convinced.  
  
Ten minutes later, however, she was starting to get nervous again.  
  
"Doctor Lecter?"  
  
"Hannibal."  
  
"Hannibal, then. We're lost and somebody's following us," Clarice said nervously and glanced behind her and tried to identify the shadowy figure that had been behind them for quite a bit.  
  
"We aren't lost and nobody is following us. Clarice, calm down," Hannibal said edgily.  
  
"Yes we are!" Clarice hissed and turned around. "Who are you?" she asked their follower.  
  
Hannibal turned around and started to apologize for Clarice, but stopped when he saw who he was. "Crawford," he hissed.  
  
"I must say, Lecter, when I saw you with Clarice, I was quite surprised. But when she accepted your proposal," Crawford said, shaking his head. "I feel the need to intervene."  
  
"Well I don't think you're going to get very far," Hannibal replied and took a gun out from his jacket.  
  
Clarice gently touched Hannibal's arm, warning him not to fire because somebody will hear.  
  
Crawford took out his own gun. "If you fire, somebody will hear it," he said, voicing what Clarice conveyed by a simple touch of her hand.  
  
"Oh, I'm not planning to fire. I'm just trying to work up your nerves so you will be nervous and slip," Hannibal replied.  
  
"I'm afraid that isn't going to happen," Crawford replied and fired his gun directly and Hannibal's heart. Clarice, having seen what was going to happen when Crawford raised his arm to fired, jumped between Crawford and Hannibal. She crumpled when the bullet hit her.  
  
"Clarice!" both men yelled.  
  
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Ok, there it is. I know it's rather short, but the chapter before it was very long. Plus, this has an evil cliff hanger. *smiles evilly* Anyways, I'll try to update soon. 


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